


Benson arresting Barba

by adrianna_m_scovill



Series: Create Your Own Context [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, F/M, barba being arrested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 23:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13557987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: No need to beat around the bush, the title says it all. Ha. This wasn't my idea. I mean, okay, it *was* my idea, because I said "does anyone else hope just a little bit that Benson will have to arrest Barba" but I wasn't going to write it. But I can't seem to say no to requests/challenges lately, so I gave it an hour. There's deliberately no context, and no name/face to the man orchestrating the arrest, so you can fill in your own ideas. And...sorry? But seriously, don't you think Raúl would just KILL a scene like this? ;)





	Benson arresting Barba

Benson shook her head. She didn’t know if she could speak. Her eyes and nose were burning, but her throat was thick with unshed tears. This was ridiculous—they all knew it was ridiculous.

Except Barba. His expression was no longer slack with shock; now it was full of resignation. He wasn’t going to argue. He wasn’t going to fight.

That meant it _wasn’t_ ridiculous. Not only did the allegations have merit—he thought he was guilty, or at least he _felt_ guilty. She shook her head, again. She knew him, _knew him_ , and no matter what he’d done, there had to be a good reason. The law was Barba’s life, and he wouldn’t throw that away, not without damn good cause, and she was not about to let him be railroaded.

“We don’t have to do this here, not like this,” she said, surprised that her voice held just a little tremor. “We’ll go in, if you want—we’ll talk about this.”

“No, Lieutenant Benson, this has to be by the book. Letter for letter.”

“You know as well as I do—” she started.

“Our feelings are irrelevant. Do your job or I’ll find someone who will.”

She looked at Barba, at the tears shining in his eyes, and she could feel her heart breaking. “I won’t—”

“Liv,” Barba said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “It’s alright.” He pushed to his feet, slowly. “He’s right, you have to do this by the book.”

“Shut up, Barba,” she answered. She wanted to be angry with him, for whatever he’d done to put himself in this position, but she couldn’t manage it. Rafael Barba, who never backed down from a fight, who always went to the mat for every victim of injustice, who could talk his way into—or out of—anything, was giving up. Giving in. Admitting defeat.

She looked at him, forcing him to hold her gaze, and she could see the silent plea in every line of his face. He wasn’t going to fight, but he needed her. He couldn’t say it aloud, couldn’t ask, but he needed her more than he’d ever needed anyone in his life, and she couldn’t let him down. She wouldn’t let him down.

“I can do it, Liv,” Rollins said quietly, stepping forward, her own expression full of compassion.

Benson pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No,” she said, quietly.

“Lieutenant—”

Benson held up a hand, silencing him. “I’ll do it,” she said, glaring at him. “But when we get to the bottom of this—” She stopped, squaring her shoulders, once more meeting Barba’s shiny green eyes. She stepped toward him and saw his expression tighten, and all she wanted to do was fight for him, protect him—even from himself. She wanted to scream at him to fight, to offer up some protest, some defense, some explanation.

Barba turned, slowly, putting his hands behind his back. Benson felt her face beginning to crumple, and she bit her lip, refusing to lose her composure. She needed to stay strong for Barba.

“Are the handcuffs necessary?” she asked.

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

She swallowed and put a hand on Barba’s wrist. His hands were shaking, just a bit. Benson put the cuffs on his wrists as gently as she could, leaving them looser than usual, and placed her hand on his back. She felt, and heard, him pull in a shuddery breath.

“Mirandize him, Lieutenant.”

“He knows his rights,” Rollins objected.

“Even so.”

Barba turned his head to look at Benson, and what she saw in his eyes now was an apology. She was the one for whom he was concerned, not himself. In that moment, she both loved and hated him for his lack of self-preservation.

“Don’t make her do this,” Barba said over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, but—”

“We get it,” Benson snapped. “You want your ass covered.” Her hand was still on Barba’s back, and she wanted to pull him into her arms and tell him that everything would be alright. Instead, she forced herself to start the recital of his legal rights. She’d gotten no further than _right to an attorney_ when Barba was unable to stand any more.

“I waive my rights,” he said, in a rush. “Don’t make her do this, you’ve made your point.”

“You freely waive your Miranda—”

“Yes, for God’s sake,” Barba said.

“Alright, Lieutenant, escort Mr. Barba out.”

Barba started toward the door with his head down. Benson walked with one hand on his back and the other, reached in front of herself, on his arm. “Lift your head up,” she told him as they reached the doorway. “You’ll be coming back here once you’re cleared, and you don’t want them remembering you walking out with your head down.”

“Liv—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said. “Not here, not now. We’ll figure it out, and we’ll fix it.” Heads were turning toward them. Carmen was at her desk, looking stunned. “Keep your eyes on me, and we’ll get through this,” Benson told him.

He looked sideways at her, and she tightened her grip on his arm, holding his gaze as they walked to the elevators. They rode down in silence, but she stayed close, keeping her hands on him, afraid to let any space get between them. He was holding onto his composure by a thread, and that knowledge gave her the strength to keep herself together—for him.

When they got to the car, he turned slightly toward her. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely above a whisper.

She pressed her palm over his heart, holding his gaze. “I know you,” she told him. “No matter what you did, it was _right_. I believe that, and I’ll make you believe it, too. If you’re not willing to fight for yourself, I damn sure will.”

She reached out and pulled open the back door, pressing lightly at his back. She didn’t want to stop touching him; she was afraid that he would somehow float away, out of her grasp, that she would lose him forever. She couldn’t allow that to happen; she couldn’t bear the thought.

She put a hand to his head, helping him into the backseat, and he looked up at her. Unable to resist, she bent her head into the car and kissed his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, Rafa,” she said. “We’ll get through this together.”

She pulled back and closed the door before she lost her tenuous grip on her emotions. She glanced over her shoulder. “I assume you’re riding with us?” she asked.

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t trust you to get him to the precinct?”

Benson turned, pasting a smile onto her face. “Oh, we’ll be there,” she said. “He’s going to beat this, legally.”

“I hope so.”

Benson walked away before she could say something that would only make the situation worse. She opened her door and sank into the driver’s seat. She looked up at the rearview mirror, meeting Barba’s eyes. She knew he’d heard her, and she could see something beginning to spark to life in his eyes—hope, maybe, or the return of some of his fighting spirit. Whatever it was, she was glad to see it.

“Thank you, Liv,” he said.

“Thank me when you’re cleared,” she answered. “Until then, keep your mouth shut unless you can say something that’ll actually help your case, and for God’s sake, give yourself a bit of legal advice.”

To her relief, she saw the ghost of a smile tip the corners of his lips, and she had to believe that he would be alright.


End file.
